Chapter 22 Yaaf
YAAF
The collective felt acutely uncomfortable hearing Mattie talking about their lack of sexual drive as if it were a problem.
The hive mind was quite proud of ridding itself of the troublesome sex drive that had occupied such a large portion of their psyche before the enhancement.
It was such a waste of time to obsess about base pleasures when they could use it to contemplate the nature of consciousness, and whether awareness emerged from matter or matter emerged from awareness.
Whether the hive mind was something new in the world, or something ancient that biology had been marching toward all along.
Those were questions worth the processing power that sex had been monopolizing.
Now that the noise was gone, the silence it left behind was occupied by things that actually mattered.
Dimitri looked skeptical. "That still doesn't explain why they would ask for just one woman and not several who match their criteria."
"They like to do everything together," Petrov said. "Some males enjoy being watched, and others enjoy watching. It's more common than you think."
The collective processed the narrative. It was layered enough to be convincing and specific enough to deflect casual curiosity. A group of enhanced soldiers rediscovering suppressed urges, seeking discretion, and preferring an experienced older woman who would be okay with their oddities.
"The story will hold," Number One said. "The problem is that under normal circumstances, we would have never shared all of that with anyone. We don't need to explain why we are requesting someone specific, and over-explaining is suspicious in itself."
"All you need is to do it subtly," Mattie said. "Just a little hint here and there while pretending that talking about it is deeply embarrassing for you. It requires some acting skill."
"We don't have any," Number Eight said. "If we did, we wouldn't be feared by everyone."
Petrov chuckled. "You are feared because you executed five warriors with your bare hands. Not because of your synchronized act."
"It's a combination of the two," Dimitri murmured. "They are perceived as strange and confirmed as dangerous." He turned to Number One. "Perhaps you need to practice with Mattie what to say when you put in the request."
Number One nodded. "That's a good idea. The question is what we tell Anita. She cannot know about the escape plan."
Petrov's eyebrows hiked up again. "Why not?"
"She's human, and any immortal can access her recent memories.
If she knows we're planning an escape, that information is one casual thrall away from reaching the wrong person.
Compelling her to keep it a secret is not going to mitigate this either, not unless we compel her to forget about the escape, which makes telling her about it in the first place pointless. "
The scientist's foot stopped its tapping. "I see the logic of what you are saying. We will have to tell her just as we whisk her out of here."
"That means we need a cover story for Anita as well," Mattie said.
She scratched her head with her good hand, her fingers raking through her blond hair.
"What if we frame the visits as being about something she would understand?
The Eight don't want other soldiers to know they've lost interest in sex.
That's their vulnerability, the thing they're hiding.
They request her to come to their room as a cover, so it looks like they're functioning normally.
But in reality, they don't touch her. They play cards, watch movies, whatever.
The only compulsion needed is for her to keep this a secret, but if anyone peeks into her mind, they will only discover something the Eight are embarrassed about, not our escape plans. "
"That's a good cover story," Petrov said.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
"Anita will be glad to get a reprieve from what she has to do in the brothel.
Unlike the women in the breeding enclosure, the ones in the brothel didn't get a vacation because the resort is undergoing repairs.
They service the army as well as the guests. "
"You should start soon," Dimitri told the collective. "Establish a pattern so when you ask for her right before our escape, it won't look unusual."
"Start tomorrow." Petrov fixed the Eight with a look that was part warning and part plea. "You play cards with her, or watch movies, or talk about whatever subject interests you, but you treat her with respect and kindness, and you do not touch her."
"As you are well aware, after this conversation, we no longer have sexual urges," Number One said. "Your warning is not needed."
Petrov's expression didn't soften, but some of the tension left his shoulders.
"Sometimes the mind wants what the body doesn't know it desires, and one thing can lead to another.
I just want to make sure that you remember my warning and the fact that I'm the one formulating your drug regimen. Don't piss me off."
It was an interesting observation that the Eight hadn't thought about.
The intellectual curiosity about physical intimacy was still there, but it lacked the drive, the motivation to explore.
They were content in their asexual state, glad of the clarity of mind it provided and the bandwidth it released for other things.
Perhaps they could talk with Anita about things pertaining to sex and intimacy.
She should be knowledgeable in the subject and not embarrassed to talk about it.
After serving in the brothel for so many years, any bashfulness she might have brought with her upon arriving at the island must surely have evaporated.
The thing that occurred to them, though, was that Petrov was as much a liability as Anita would be regarding knowledge about the escape plan.
"There's another concern," Number One said. "Petrov, you are human, and your mind is just as susceptible as Anita's."
Petrov frowned. "You are right. What do I do?"
"Don't leave the lab. You're a security risk."
Petrov exhaled. "It's a good thing that I stopped going to the hotel bar, then."
"It is," Number One said, then turned to Mattie. "The same is true for you."
She smiled. "I don't like leaving the lab, and now I have a very good excuse not to, but what about you, Dimitri?" She turned to look at him. "Can other immortals thrall you now that you are also an immortal?"
He looked at Number One, and there was a hint of smugness in his expression. "I found a way to resist your thralling and compulsion even before becoming immortal. Can you read my mind now?"
"We can still get impressions of thoughts that you project," Number One said. "But no other immortal on this island will be able to do even that. As for compulsion, we didn't try to compel you lately, so we don't know. Would you like us to test it?"
"Go ahead."
"Scratch your nose," Number One said.
Dimitri smiled. "It's not itchy."
"Did you feel the compulsion?" Mattie asked.
"I felt a little pressure. It was easy to resist, though.
Still, I need to be careful." Dimitri touched his jaw.
"My fangs are not fully grown yet, and I have to keep the mask on until they are indistinguishable from my other teeth.
Since Mattie and Petrov can't leave the lab, I will have to be the one who ventures out when needed. "
Petrov sighed. "I hoped I could see Anita during her visits to your hotel. Now I'm confined to the lab."
Mattie cast him an understanding smile. "I know it's hard, but once we're free, you'll be able to see Anita whenever you want. It's a short-term sacrifice for long-term benefits."
Petrov looked at her, and for a moment, the sardonic mask he wore like a second skin slipped enough to reveal the vulnerability underneath. He looked tired and older than his years, and profoundly sad.
"From your mouth to God's ears, devochka." He rose from the chair and stretched, his back producing a series of cracks. "I'm going to bed. We have a lab to run in the morning, and I need at least a few hours of sleep to maintain what remains of my charming personality."
"And vodka," Dimitri added.
"Vodka is merely the social lubricant that allows my deeper qualities to emerge." Petrov picked up his notepad and tucked it under his arm. "Good night, everyone."
"One moment." Number One lifted a finger. "The notes you are taking are a hazard, too. If the lab gets searched and someone finds your notebook, our plans are all written in there."
Petrov looked down his nose at him. "Do you really think I'm that careless or stupid? I write in code that only I understand. Even Dimitri can't decipher my notes."
"That's true," Dimitri confirmed. "He's the code master. We have another code that we use to communicate between just the two of us."
"Can I see it?" Number One asked.
If the collective couldn't decipher it using their combined processing power, it wasn't likely that anyone else on the island could.
Reluctantly, Petrov handed over the yellow pad.
The hive mind scanned the writing that looked like mathematical notations combined with unintelligible scribbles, and after a few minutes, decided that Petrov was right.
"That's fascinating." Number One handed back the notebook. "Once we are free, can you show us how you create these codes?"
Petrov grinned. "If I do, you will know my secret."
Number One mirrored the broad smile. "You forget that we can enter your brain and pick it up from there."
The smile evaporated from the scientist's face. "Right. I did forget. But that means any other immortal can do that as well. I need to destroy this thing."
"Not necessarily," Number One said. "We can keep it safe for you."
Petrov looked at the notebook as if it were a precious heirloom he was reluctant to part with. "What if I need to take notes while you are not here?"
"You'll have to memorize them until we meet with them again, and since we see them every day, that shouldn't be a problem." Dimitri took it from him and handed it to Number One. "Take good care of this."
“We will." Number One tucked the notebook under his arm.
Petrov cast one last look at it, then turned on his heel and left the room. A moment later, the sound of his door closing down the hall was followed by the familiar clink of a bottle being retrieved from wherever he kept his supply.
Number One checked the time. Thirty-five minutes past three.
"We need to leave," he said. "The phone has to be back before Losham wakes up."
Dimitri nodded. "Be careful out there."
"Naturally." Number One rose, and the other seven followed, unfolding from the beds and the floor where they'd been sitting.
They filed out of the room and down the hallway, their footsteps silent on the tiled floor.
As they stepped out into the warm, humid air, the collective's background processes shifted from the debrief to the task of returning the phone without getting caught, but threading through the tactical processing were Yaaf's persistent and impossible to fully compartmentalize thoughts about Sullha.
The way her eyes had brightened, the armor dropping, the real person emerging from behind the walls she'd built to survive.
Unlike Anita, who couldn't be told because she interacted with immortals, Sullha was deliberately isolated from them. He could tell her about the escape, and no one would pick it up from her head.
How would she react? Would she be overjoyed that the life she'd endured for nineteen years was about to change? Or would she be too scared to want to escape?
He had so much to tell her.
The collective held the thought without comment, seven minds cradling the eighth's preoccupation with infinite patience because they had learned to accommodate each other's idiosyncrasies.
He needed to see her again, not because the escape was imminent and he needed to prepare her, but because he just wanted to be with her.